


Fragile Bodies of Touch and Taste

by smallbrownfrog



Category: Saga (Comics)
Genre: Alien Biology, Canon-Typical Violence in Background, F/M, Fingering, Non-Human Genitalia, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6568855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallbrownfrog/pseuds/smallbrownfrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brush with death is as good a reason for sex as any.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragile Bodies of Touch and Taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/gifts).



They came out of the fight still half crazed on adrenaline and the miracle of being alive. Half the windows were shattered and the warehouse walls were coated with soot. There was nobody left to kill, but Will couldn’t stop quite yet, so he aimed one of the captured weapons at a pile of boxes and watched it go up in a satisfying ball of flame.

Stalk clapped and her laugh bubbled up, light as a balloon. It went up and up to notes that Will couldn’t even hear; though Lying Cat put her ears back and howled in protest. Then Stalk stepped up behind Will and two of her arms went around him in a loose hug as she stood behind him, laughing into his back.

Will started to protest, because what kind of wimpy freelancer needed a hug? Then he was laughing too. It made no sense. Yet he laughed until he choked and the tears ran down his cheeks. Both of them stood together wheezing with laughter that wouldn’t stop.

Stalk was still shaking with laughter as one of her hands moved down Will’s chest to his utility belt. His cock gave an interested little nod at the familiar touch, but she was only reaching for the leather pouch that held their client’s messaging devices. There was a soft whir as she activated the homing beacon and tossed it in the general direction of the bodies that lay waiting for retrieval. Soon the signal would be telling their client that they had earned the delivery fee.

Will leaned back into Stalk’s silent embrace as they both stared at the wreckage. He no longer felt like he needed to leap out of his own skin, but he was still thrumming with energy. The floor was littered with glass. The few surviving shelves had toppled over like passed out drunks and there was no other furniture left whole. Random bits and pieces of trash were everywhere. Most of what could be broken was broken. And if it wasn’t broken, it had been burned till it was charred, melted, or evaporated.

Will and Stalk had nearly been broken themselves. Will had a blood-red sunburn all down one arm where he had been grazed by a pulse cutter, and Stalk had bruises where some asshole had gone for her windpipe. They had managed to survive in spite of bad support and worse information. Now some accountant expected them to just stand here in this garbage dump and wait.

Stalk’s body was a solid presence against his back while Will thought about their options. It might be several hours until their client either replied or picked up the target in person, and the idea of quietly doing nothing for that long was intolerable. Maybe Stalk was thinking the same thing. Certainly, two more of her arms reached around to Will’s front as she held him closer. If she closed any tighter he would crack like a nut, but it felt more like armor than danger. It felt like a reminder that they were a team.

It also simply felt good to feel her body pressed against his. She was cool and hard like a marble statue. Will wanted to melt into her, let her take the hot ache out of his muscles. He wanted to rub against her like a cat. He wanted — Damn, he wanted to fuck her. But where?

“Stalk, I think what we’re missing is a bed.”

“Or I could tie you up and eat you for supper.”

“That too.”

Laughing quietly, she closed her teeth over his ear and bit lightly. The first time she had ever threatened to eat him, he hadn’t been sure if she was joking or if he was about to end up very, very dead. Now he was almost entirely sure it was her dark sense of humor, but Will couldn’t help the slight chill that shuddered down his nerves or the little kick of adrenaline that pulled all his senses back to their mid-mission height. Sounds got sharper. Colors got a little brighter. Touch was somehow magnified.

Stalk let him go, one arm at a time. For a moment he missed the contact, then he was lost in the fascination of watching her spin.

She held two of her hands a distance apart from each other, as though measuring the room. Then there was a little huff of air as a fine line of liquid silk shot out of one of her spinnerets and into a waiting hand. Stalk reeled the line out, bit off the end, and stuck the whole length to the floor. She did this again, and then again, until she had a series of sticky little lines running across the nearest section of floor.

Stalk paused to eat a stray bit of silk, slurping it up like spaghetti and winking some of her eyes at Will.

Then she started pumping out silk in earnest, her spinnerets humming as they worked together to mix and push out a steady spray of liquid silk. The silk gelled into cottony clouds almost instantly as it came out. Five minutes later a soft jumble of silk covered the nearest section of floor. It looked a little like lace and a lot like stuffing torn from a pillow.

Stalk did the final shaping more slowly, sometimes pausing to fasten down a part that was coming loose. Occasionally she nibbled off a piece.

“How’s this for a cozy fuck nest?” asked Stalk.

She handed him a wad of the pillowy silk, and he took it in his hands. It was soft and almost slippery, but not even the tiniest bit sticky. Grinning at Stalk, he stuck out his tongue and licked a big sloppy trail all across the handful of silk. It had no real taste, but just knowing that it had been inside her made the act almost gleefully obscene.

“Hmmm,” said Stalk. “Are you sure that’s what you want to kiss?” 

Once that question would have thrown Will off his stride. The first time he had had sex with her, he had been sure that he couldn't be what she really wanted. He had been afraid that he was just a momentary substitute for one of her randy spider boys, who had the right parts to fit inside her.

Now he knew better. If what he had with her was substitute sex, he never wanted to have the real thing. Any moron could put tab A in slot A, like their daddy and granddaddy had done before them. What Will had with Stalk was an adventure.

He didn't need to have any parts he didn't have. His cock, his tongue, and his fingers were just as good as any bits the spider boys might have. He didn’t need any stubby little leg-cocks growing out of his head to make her scream.

No, he knew just what to do to make her scream. He knew a dozen delicious things to do. He thought about them while he pulled his clothes off.

She was so many touchable textures, so many shapes to feel, so many openings to explore. Sometimes he just wanted to kiss his way over her whole body. There was the soft, cool skin of her breasts and face. There was the smooth hard shine of her shelled parts, as polished as his own ship. There were the wonderful little spiky hairs near her leg joints. Brushed the wrong way they were prickly as velcro. Brushed the other direction they were like stiff fur. Then there was the roughly fuzzy hair that covered her beautiful backside, and the softer hair that draped around her face.

Her face was always a wonderful place to start, so he kissed one column of eyes shut, top to bottom, before nibbling down her neck and mouthing one of her nipples. Stalk was making little nonsense sounds and pushing his head down, so he slowly kissed his way down to her epigyne, the hard opening just south of her wastline.

Then he paused, huffing soft breaths into her. Slowly he forced his tongue inward, whether it fit or no. It was a tight fit, but it could just be done. He set up a steady in and out rhythm, with an occasional attempt to bend the tip of his tongue into an alcove that he could just barely reach. When his tongue wore out he went to fingers for a while, turning and twisting them in the stiff little passages; but he preferred the wet profanity of tongue on hard shell. It was like tonguing the hard interlocking gears of a machine.

Will loved watching her come undone bit by bit. He loved the way she pushed back at him in spite of herself, the way her hands grabbed at the air, and the half-tender way she swore at him when he paused.

When he finally got the angle and pressure just right he could feel the tight opening widen just a tiny bit. Then he could feel Stalk’s breathing speed up as he worked. She gasped out, “Fuck Will, just do it!” He pushed his fingers in hard, harder than felt good to him. There was a slight tremble in her legs, a hitch in her breath, and then her nails were tearing up the silk webbing while she yowled.

She lay quiet for a few moments, then reached a hand out for a cigarette. He found some in his cast-off clothes and handed her one. She took a long drag and said, “Damn.” After another minute of smoking, she said, “On your back, I think.”

Cigarette stubbed out, Stalk leaned low over Will as he lay looking up at her. His cock was more than a little interested to greet her, and she ran a fingernail oh so lightly up and down what would normally have been the underside as it filled and rose. Humming to herself, she wove a shiny silk wrap over and around his cock. Then she began to stroke and tap him through the woven silk. Her hands landed so lightly that they might have been made of air. It wasn’t at all what Will had expected and he tried for some firmer contact. That only made Stalk giggle and let go entirely.

She kept her hands at a distance until Will was lying still again. Then she reached in, multiple hands tapping so lightly that he wasn’t even sure she was touching him. Ever so slowly she built up the pressure and the tempo until Will thought he was about to explode. He was pulled tight, stretched thin, on the edge of breaking altogether. He could feel his balls drawing up, and ––

Then her hands pulled back. Not a hint of touch. Nothing. No contact at all. He couldn’t help whining, a high little mewl like a hurt cat.

Her hands came back with an apologetic stroke, and then she began to rebuild the light drumming rhythm. However as soon as his body began to tense on the way to release, she stopped. Then she waited. Then, she began again. He thought he would go insane. He didn’t know whether to beg her to stop or to beg her to keep going. Over and over she stopped, waited, and then started again.

When he finally came, it was with a shout that echoed off the walls. He sagged and lay utterly boneless. He couldn’t have moved if he tried.

Will still felt loose-limbed and sated as Stalk handed him a smoke. Soon they would have to pull themselves together and go through a paperwork dance with some backwater bureaucrat. Clients were notorious for disputing the kill fee once there was no danger of their target coming back to life.

However, right in this moment, lying next to her, everything was pure happiness. Will couldn’t help smiling. She was the one alright.


End file.
